


foolishly completely falling

by shutupluke



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Calum works as a receptionist ???, Fluff, Literal tooth rotting fluff, M/M, Not in the band au???, This is nothing but fluff I'm sorry, just not the actual band, well kind of in a band
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 02:10:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4728824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shutupluke/pseuds/shutupluke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'@michael5sos: literally just said 'love you, bye' on the phone to the room service guy. well then'</p><p>~</p><p>"Mate, I appreciate the sentiment, truly, I do, but fuck, do you not think we should at least know each other's names before you proclaim your love for me down the phone?" </p><p>or, an au where Calum Hood works as the 'room service guy' in the hotel Michael's band are staying at.</p>
            </blockquote>





	foolishly completely falling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dafeedil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dafeedil/gifts).



> so this is my first ever piece of writing on here ???? essentially I saw Michael's tweet and then Angie's post about making it a Malum au and thus this thing was born. This is like 1k and I wrote it in 40 minutes and it's not betaed so I'm sorry if there a fuck load of mistakes :/// hope u love it Angie :-)

"Hey, Mikey, would you order me a cheeseburger? I'm fucking starving."

They're sat in a hotel room- he's about 90% sure they're in Canada, but they've been touring for five months straight so forgive him for being unsure of his exact whereabouts. 

"Dylan, when are you not fucking hungry?" Ashley is laughing from where she's sat on her bed, and Michael can't help but giggle as well. Well it's a valid point and also, Ashley's laugh is infectious as shit.

"Fuck off, Ash!" Dylan whines from where he's buried face down in his duvet. He tends to move as little as possible and eat as much as possible when they have a hotel, but he's somehow the life of the party when they're on the bus.

"Actually bro, if you're ordering food then I want French fries." Josh pipes up, looking up from his phone momentarily. 

Michael sighs. Honestly, he could go for some chicken nuggets right about now. "Well. It looks like I'm ordering room service. Ashley, you want anything?"

Ash, at least, has the decency to look a little sheepish. "Can I have a stack of pancakes?" 

Michael rolls his eyes but shuffles begrudgingly out of the bedroom space and into the hall, homing in on a side table with the phone on it. It's pretty similar to the ones he usually deals with, so he simply picks up the receiver and dials 1. 

"Room service, how can I help you?" The voice on the other line is not what he'd been expecting to hear. Michael can only describe it as cute; and it's definitely not a Canadian accent. This guy's voice is soft and velvety, almost, with a kind of raspy edge that makes Michael literally melt into a puddle. 

"Hi, can I get a cheeseburger, a stack of pancakes with maple syrup, a portion of French fries and some chicken nuggets?" 

"Somebody's hungry, eh?" The other line guy laughs, and it's the kind of breathless almost childlike laughter that Michael could listen to forever. 

This is new. This is definitely new. He's been to so many hotels, ordered so much room service he could practically work the line himself, but he's never quite had that kind of response. 

He finds himself smiling into the handset. "Somebodies. Plural." 

"Sir, I'm not judging you. We've all been there." Michael feels like he can hear the smirk on this guy's face. And is he... Is he flirting with Michael? Via the phone? If he is, then Michael is 110% into it.

"I'm not lying! Room 314, four bed. Check it, honestly. I swear." Michael's cheeks are flushed bright red with the effort he's going to to sound convincing. It's just. This receptionist (or whatever his job title is) has a nice voice. And Michael doesn't want to seem like that guy: the guy who checks into a hotel alone and the orders enough to feed four. 

"Sir, you don't have to justify yourself to me. I'm just the help. So, drinks?" And it's a strange feeling- the reassurance that literally washes over him like a bucket of cold water. He hadn't made a total arse of himself, at least. 

"Um, one sec." He puts the handset on the table momentarily and calls out "Anybody want a drink?" 

There's a quick murmur, and then Josh is yelling "Three beers!" 

Michael picks up the phone again. "Sorry about that. Four beers, please." 

"Just to be clear sir, the drinking age here in Canada is 18. You are legally able to purchase alcohol?" And, oh my God. Michael has missed a drinking age of 18. He's the youngest member of his band at 19, but Ash is only a year older, so they'd both been going without whenever they were somewhere that carded, and it's just nice to know he can actually drink again and not get like, arrested. Or deported, actually.

"Oh my god, thank fuck. In that case, yes I am legally able to purchase alcohol." 

"If that's everything, sir?"

"Um, yeah, I think so. Love you, bye!" Michael hangs up. 

At least two seconds go by before it dawns on him. "Fuck. FUCK!" 

"Mike?" Ashley yells, but Michael is frozen to the spot, staring at the vaguely grey looking wall.

Fuck. Fuck his entire life. He is literally the most awkward person on the entire fucking planet. He wants the ground to swallow him up, or maybe he can be abducted by aliens or something. Essentially, life on Earth as Michael Clifford knows it is over. 

He does what he thinks is the only thing to do. He calls 1 again. He's worked himself up into a frenzy of panic. His words come out so quickly they're barely words at all. "Fuck. I didn't mean that, shit, fuck, I am so sorry, I cannot believe..." Room service guy is howling with laughter on the other line, and it's full on side splitting, shoulder shaking laughter. Michael hasn't moved an inch, he's still staring at the grey wall, feels all the blood from his face accumulating in his cheeks. This is the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to him. 

(Actually, it's not. One time, when they were on stage, Michael was in the middle of an ambitious leg kicking jump off an amp when his black skinny jeans split, revealing his spider man underwear to the crowd at Reading festival. Ashley had laughed so much she had to stop singing and the set was paused while Michael changed pants. That was the most embarrassing moment of his life, but this is close.) 

"Mate, I appreciate the sentiment, truly, I do, but fuck, do you not think we should at least know each other's names before you proclaim your love for me down the phone?" Michael, if it was possible, flushes an even darker red, all over his face and neck. 

"Shut uuuuup," he whines, "that was totally an accident and I didn't mean to say that, like at all!" 

"Yeah, sure. It's Calum, actually." 

"What's Calum?" Michael is now embarrassed and confused: not the best of combinations.

"Me." Room service guy says dryly. "I'm Calum. I thought that that was pretty much implied- you know what? Never mind." 

"Oh. I'm Michael, by the way. If you like, care, or anything." Michael feels like a school girl with a crush. He's blushing and tripping over his words and giggling- he's got an eyebrow piercing, damn it! He's in a band! He's punk, for God's sake! What the fuck has happened to rock god Michael Clifford, lead guitarist of a semi-famous rock band!

"Well, Michael, nice of you to introduce yourself finally! I actually have a job to do, however, and you probably want your food." 

Michael is actually pretty hungry now, come to think of it. "Okay. Bye, Calum. And, sorry again." He laughs nervously, but just before he hangs up he hears "Michael, wait!"

"Um, I just. If you wanted to like, come talk to me for a while, maybe, I'll be by the kitchens in like twenty minutes? And maybe I could like, give you my number or something, so we can do this again?" It feels like some weird voodoo shit has gone down because now Calum is the one sounding nervous. Honestly, Michael's kind of shocked. 

"Oh, wow, okay. Yeah, sure. I'll see you in twenty, then?" 

"Yeah. See you then, Michael." 

Michael is not even ashamed to admit that he squeals like a little girl when he hangs up the second time. 

"Seriously, dude, are you okay?" Josh calls. 

Michael practically skips back into the main section of their shared hotel room, grinning across his face as he collapses beside Ashley on one of the four king beds.

"Guess who's getting the room service guy's number?" 

"Dude I can tell you already: it's 1." Dylan quips, and Michael simply throws one of the many throw pillows at his head, while his two other best mates laugh at his expense.

And it's a great feeling, honestly. He's living his dream, his three best friends by his side, and for once in his life he is just overwhelmingly happy. 

Michael's sure that from now on, his life will only get better and he feels on top of the fucking world right now.

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on tumblr mashlumtrash!!! willing (inappropriately desperate) to discuss malum at length !!!


End file.
